


FAKE

by AlyKat, roguebowtie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All the misunderstandings, Clint's more clever than he lets on, Emotional Compromise, Fake Marriage, M/M, Nick's a schemer, Suburban Housewives are fucking terrifying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:59:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguebowtie/pseuds/roguebowtie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a mission calls for you to be as married as possible.  That can be a problem when you're secretly in love with your fake spouse.  And you panic.  And you say things you don't mean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FAKE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlyKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/gifts).



> A few notes!
> 
> 1\. There are mentions of ace/asexuality in an unflattering light re: misconceptions, etcetera. This is due to panic and hurt and anger - something that often drives people to say things they don't honestly think or mean, when they just want to make the other person hurt as much as they do. These are NOT the actual thoughts of authors or characters.
> 
> 2\. This was supposed to be posted yesterday, as yesterday was AlyKat's birthday! I've taken an over-a-year-old RP of ours and worked on fixing it up to post as a fic as a birthday gift for them!
> 
> 3\. I thought there was more, but my daughter got to talking about pegasus and unicorns and I've completely lost track of my brain.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~Roguebowtie

**"I gotta wear a ring for this** , don't I?" Clint asked as he looked at the mission briefing, fingers tapping the paper in a nervous tell.

Phil glanced up from his own file folder, brow quirked but face otherwise blank. "I believe that's stated in the briefing packet. It generally helps to make the cover more believable, that way."

Turning his eyes back down to the packet, Phil sighed softly. He still didn't have any idea why they were picked for this mission. Clint and Natasha would have been the obvious and better choice.

"Lots of people don't wear rings, especially gay couples," Clint said, simply because it was expected for him to protest. This was... going to be torture.

"If you'd rather not wear one, that's entirely up to you, Barton." Phil never even glanced back up as he grabbed a pen and began scribbling in the margins. "You have your story down? Name and occupation?"

"You gonna wear one?" Clint asked, flopping onto the couch. "Yes, My name is Clint Walsh, independant renovations. I get to flip houses. Wooo." He waved a finger in false cheer. "They coulda made me an archery coach or something."

"Don't even pretend like you haven't been caught multiple times watching those home renovation shows in the lounge." A smirk quirked at the corner of Phil's mouth before he set his pen down and sat back in his chair. "My name is Phillip James-Walsh, I work from home as a home security consultant. And to answer your previous question, I haven't decided if I will be wearing one, or not, yet."

"I guess we'll figure it out. I won't be able to get 'home' until my first day fixing up a house. I want the window side of the bedroom," Clint said, crossing his feet up on the edge of Phil's desk. "Phil," he said, grinning.

Frowning and reaching across to swat Clint's feet off his desk, Phil huffed and rolled his eyes. "Keep your shoes off the furniture, Clint. This is why we can't have nice things." Phil's voice wasn't quite the Agent Tone he generally had, but it still bordered on ‘Don't push your luck too far, Barton, or I will have you training newbies for the next six months’.

"Awww, you say the sweetest things, Phil Darling," Clint cackled.

Rolling his eyes, Phil pushed himself to his feet and grabbed a key from his desk, tossing it at Clint without fear of accidentally hitting him with it. "Just make sure you're at the house by seven tomorrow evening with all your things. I'll be there first thing in the morning to start unloading the moving truck, and getting things situated."

Clint caught the key before giving it a kiss and saluting Phil on his way out the door.

 **"PLEASE tell me** there's a ring in here somewhere," Clint said, carrying three duffle bags over one shoulder and a toolbox in hand as he let himself into 'their' house.

The furniture had been delivered and set up, though there were still boxes upon boxes scattered throughout the living room, kitchen, and set on the staircase leading to the second floor. Phil had managed to get the control room set up, and the dishes in the kitchen put away, before Clint arrived. Stepping out into sight, the sleeves of his grey sweatshirt pushed up, and the bottom hem only just barely coming to rest over the top of his faded and worn out jeans waistband, he looked as far from Agent Phil Coulson as he could probably get. "A ring? Why? Are you suddenly now wanting one?"

Clint's brain stopped working, eyes traveling over visible forearms, a sliver of waist, No. Tie. "Uh...."

Drawing up short, his socked feet slipping just a bit on the smooth hardwood floor of the hallway, Phil frowned in concern. "Bar-- Clint? Everything alright?"

Clint blinked a few times and shook his head, hefting the bags hanging from his shoulder. "It's hard to get any work done with everyone and their cousin coming by to flirt, si- Cou- Phil."

"Why don't you just tell them you're a married man?" Phil's smirk was just slightly coy as he reached into his pocket and pulled a chain and ring out to toss to him. "Here. The One Ring to rule them all."

"One Ring to find them," Clint caught it and pulled it off the chain to put it on, then put the necklace on for shits and giggles. "I did. They said I couldn't be THAT married without a ring. What the hell? I’m doing construction!"

"If you don't want to wear it, just put it back on the chain and tell people you're afraid of ruining it or losing it somewhere while you're working." Phil's own ring finger was bare, though his own titanium band was burning a hole through his pocket. Without another thought, he turned and started back into the living room where he was still unpacking things. "The bedroom and bathroom still need to be unpacked. But I got the office set up."

"I'll do it, I have my stuff here anyway," Clint said, carrying his bags up to the bedroom. He glanced at the ring on his left hand. "One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them." He muttered to himself, rubbing his hand down his face. "Futz."

Clint really hadn't thought taking the Bedroom through. He unpacked his bags quickly, he didn't have a lot, technically, and this was almost all of his things. He opened one of the boxes and suddenly realised. Yup. This was Phil's actual stuff. He was going to put Phil's clothes in the drawers. Clothes that weren't suits. And would probably be doing that a lot because he sure as hell wasn't going to make him do all the chores.

Who knew there were so many soft sweaters....

Phil waited until he heard Clint start up the stairs before he sat back on the floor and stared at the box in front of him. In order to give things a more personal and homey feel, he'd offered to have the contents of his apartment relocated and moved into the safe house. Or at least parts of his apartment. The entirety of the living room was his. Including the pictures he'd set up on the walls, bookcase, and mantel. The one in his hands he debated to put out. Swallowing hard, he finally moved to stand and place it in the center of the mantel. There needed to be pictures of himself and Clint if they were to be believable as a newly wed couple, right?

He was nearly finished unpacking when a knock sounded at the door. Startled, he stood and reached for a sidearm that wasn't there. He glanced to the door, then the stairs, before going to answer it.

A woman stood on the doorstep, mid-thirties, petite, blond hair pulled up into a messy French braid. She held a casserole dish in her hands. Phil blinked twice before opening the door fully. "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Caroline Everhart. I live next door. Saw that I had a new neighbor so I thought I'd bring some food over for you. In case you haven't eaten yet."

Smiling brighter, Phil stepped aside to let her in, taking the dish from her as he did. "Oh, thank you. I'm Phillip James-Walsh. Pleasure. Please, come in. It's still a mess, but-"

"Hey, Phil? I was thinking, we should totally get a Fish tank or someth- Hello," Clint said, coming to a stumble-stop half way down the stairs. "Woah wait, is that FOOD?"

Phil rolled his eyes and sighed, holding the dish out. "Yes, it's food. This is our neighbor, Caroline."

Caroline smiled brightly, holding her hand out to Clint. "Hi! I didn't know Phillip had a roommate."

"Hi there, thanks for the food," he said, shaking her hand. He scratched at his cheek, the gold on his left hand glinting when he did so. "Seriously, I'm crap in the kitchen and I don't think we know where the takeout spots are yet," he said amiably.

Caroline's smile was still megawatts bright as she shook her head and glanced between the two of them, oblivious to the fact the ring was meant to be linked to Phil. "Well, I'm semi-decent in the kitchen, so any time either of you want to come over for dinner or supper, I'm sure I can whip something up."

Frowning inwardly, Phil handed the dish off to Clint. "Here Ba--be...go put this in the kitchen, for me?" The mental cringe he gave at how awkward he sounded was beyond ridiculous.

"You're my new best friend, Caroline," Clint said with a wink. He took the dish, and stole a kiss on the corner of Phil's mouth, staking his claim, as he turned to bring it into the kitchen.

It was only when he was in the kitchen that he realised what he'd done. Oh man, Phil was going to murder him in his sleep.

Phil's cheeks burned a bright red as Clint disappeared into the kitchen. His heart flip-flopped in his chest and it took a full ten seconds for his brain to reboot. By the time it had, Caroline was grinning at him.

"Ooooh... I am so sorry. You're not wearing a ring, and.... That's so adorable. You two must not have been married long?"

It was an innocent question, but one that still made Phil shake his head dumbly and struggle to find words. Which seemed to be fine by Caroline. She smiled and squeezed his arm gently.

"Well, enjoy the casserole. It goes great with red wine." She smirked and winked, before slipping out the door, leaving Phil standing dazed in the hall.

Cabinets were opening and closing as Clint searched for the dishes. Who the heck didn't put cups over the sink? Who put plates by the FRIDGE?! They're... "I CAN'T FIND ANYTHING!" Clint called, trying to hide the 'ohshit' reflex he was having right now over having given in to desire and kissed his BOSS. _Futz._

The shout from the kitchen was enough to shake Phil from his thoughts. Reaching his hand into his pocket, he gripped the ring tight, letting it dig into his palm for a moment before heading into the kitchen. "You're obviously lying. You found the kitchen." A dry, smartass remark to try and set them both back to ease a bit.

"Hardee har har - I'm spelunking here. I have found cups, where the plates should be. Plates where the pots should be. Is the silverware in the fridge, then?" he huffed, grinning.

"Actually, I'd thought of putting the silverware in your sock drawer." Phil rolled his eyes as he moved to open the drawer by the sink. "Silverware. And if you're unhappy with the way things are set up in here, you're more than welcome to put them how you like."

"Sharpie," Clint said, reaching past him to grab some forks and knives. "I'm going to label EVERYTHING in sharpie."

"Have fun explaining to Fury why SHIELD is being charged extra for deep cleaning to get the Sharpie off everything. And it better not come near _anything_ of mine."

"Masking tape, then," Clint said, setting up the table and opening the dish, sticking a serving spoon in. "Food's gonna get cold."

Grabbing a bottle of soda from the fridge, Phil poured them each a glass and set it on the table between their seats. "Better eat up and finish getting the rooms upstairs taken care of. I'm almost done down here and, when I finish, I'm going to check the equipment. Should get the bugs planted outside tonight at the very least."

"Sure thing, I did the bedroom and the bathroom. Should I lable things or-?"

"Do you think you'll need to?"

"Well, you put away the kitchen weird, maybe I put your stuff away weird."

Phil set his fork down and reached for his soda, casting Clint a sidelong glance. "Clint, we've both moved enough times in our lives, I feel fairly confident that I should adjust well enough to however it is you put things away."

Clint shrugged and demolished half the casserole before speaking. "Did I scare off your new friend?"

Phil nodded as he took another gulp from his soda, nudging his plate and fork towards the center of the table. "You did, actually. Which brings up something I think we both need to discuss. Something we failed to talk about during planning...."

"I just thought, since she didn't notice the ring, and we're supposed to be _married_ , that being _married_ was probably a good idea; and married people do stuff like thoughtless kisses, and-" except the kiss had been everything BUT thoughtless.

"Clint... Clint. _Barton_! Enough." Phil sighed, running a hand down his face. "Yes, it was fine what you did. It made the point perfectly clear to her. What I was going to tell you, though, is that you shouldn't feel pressured or obligated to do anything you aren't comfortable with during this mission. I'm sure we can make it perfectly believable to say one of us is Ace, to avoid any further... incidents that may be uncomfortable."

incidents. Yup, Clint screwed up. Royally. "Got it," he said, standing and leaving without finishing what little was still on his plate.

Watching Clint leave, Phil thunked his head down on the table. This mission was not going to go well....

 **Ace. Of course.** He probably disgusted Coulson or something. No matter, he could play at that if he had to - and the only person who may notice a difference was the lady with the tasty food. He grabbed some clothes and went to the guest room shower. He'd keep an eye out at 'work' and stay out of Coulson's hair at home. Yep. _Dammit Clint._

He finished the shower, changed into the pyjamas, and went to bed in the guest room. If he played it right, he'd wake before dawn and be able to head out to the house before Coulson woke.

Phil groaned inwardly as he finished putting the leftover casserole into a Tupperware container and moved to start washing the dishes. There was a dishwasher, but there was something about actually handwashing dishes that helped Phil to think sometimes. He'd already managed to screw something up; what, though, he didn't know. There was definitely ice radiating off of Clint, now. With a frown, Phil finished downstairs before making his way up to the ‘office’, to set up camp in front of the monitors and wait. It was the worst part of missions; especially when his mind kept trying to wander off without his permission.

He sat at his computers the entire night, glancing occasionally at the door, and frowning hard at it before looking back at the screens. He'd thought they'd agreed that the ground bugs would be planted later that night, though apparently he'd been mistaken. Rubbing a hand down his face, he leaned back in the chair, and let his eyes fall shut. Wasn't the first time he'd have fallen asleep sitting up, wouldn't be the last.

Clint put a blanket over him when he got up before dawn, before he slipped out, and planted the bugs on his way to work.

The day -- once Phil woke up, finally -- was spent puttering around the house, and spending time outside playing friendly with the neighbors to get himself and Clint established a bit among them while getting a lay of the neighborhood. There was a lot he and Clint would have to go over later, and Phil was determined to keep it professional.

Upon finding out one of the guys had a daughter's birthday party he was missing, Clint shooed him off and stayed late to finish up the rewiring before heading home after supper time.

 **The house was mostly dark,** save for the light in Phil's office. He heard the door open and close downstairs, the security alarm being set, and huffed softly. There was a plate left in the microwave for Clint if he was hungry, Phil'd gotten tired of waiting after an hour and Clint being a no-show. Pushing himself out of his chair and out the door, he made his way down the stairs. "Ya know... it looks kind of bad when a guy's new husband is a no-show-no-call for supper."

"Paul's kid had a birthday party tonight, I told him I'd do up his part of the work so he could leave early," Clint said, turning on the timer and leaning on the counter, watching the plate slowly spin. "Have fun being neighbourly today?"

"Mm, I did, actually. Met all but two of our neighbors. Got a layout of the neighborhood, and we were invited to three barbeques." Phil leaned against the door jam, watching Clint carefully. "How were things on your end?"

"Three? I'm gonna need to buy bigger pants. No news in the construction site. The head boss is a little shifty, but that might be normal people shifty instead of not-normal people shifty. I'll let you know."

Giving a nod, Phil let his arms fall to his sides. "Yes, please do. In the meantime, at least text if you're going to be back late." A small smile quirked his lips as he moved to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. "We're suppose to be newlyweds. Won't do having you stay out until all hours without even a phone call or text. People'll start to think you're already cheating on me, or something."

"Maybe we have an open relationship," Clint said, pulling the plate out and adding salt and pepper to it before digging in, hopping up to sit on the counter top.

Phil bristled just slightly, his calm, collected mask falling briskly back into place as he shrugged and started out of the kitchen. "If that's the way you want it. Then by all means. An open relationship it is." Pausing on his way out, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Just let me know if that's how you want to play this. That way, if anyone asks why you're not around, I can explain and get my story right."

"Hey," Clint pointed his fork at him. "You're the one who wanted to be Ace. Plenty couples, if someone's Ace to the point of not wanting to be futzing kissed by their partner, have someone else to do the fucking," he dropped the dishes, only half empty, into the sink. He'd lost his appetite. "So which is it, _Phil_."

Phil turned to face Clint completely, doing well to keep from letting anything show. "I'll tell people I'm Ace," he shrugged nonchalantly. "You're welcome to say you have someone on the side to fulfill those aspects of the relationship. That's how it'll be." People would believe that more than they would if Clint pretended to be Ace. No matter how bad it hurt, it was just better this way.

"Y'know, it woulda been nice to know I repulsed you that bad before whats-her-name showed up at the door," Clint bit back. "I promise I'll stay out of your way, sir, and keep my hands to myself."

Phil blinked twice, it was the only tell to show that what Clint had said had thrown him off. Head tilted to the side just slightly, he frowned. "You don't repulse me. I was just trying to make things less awkward. I'm sorry if, by doing so, I pissed you off and made things worse." Jaw tight, Phil heaved a deep breath. "I'll be sure to just keep quiet from here on out." Without another word, he turned, moving back up the stairs to lock himself into his office... and quite possibly contact Fury and HR for Handler Reassignment request forms.

When Clint found out who decided to pair them on this mission instead of the usual him and Natasha, or, hell, Coulson and Sitwell - he was going to the put the FEAR into them. FIrst things first, though, and he went for his shower to wash off the grime of the work day before sleep.

And hell if he didn't start singing New York State of Mind.

Phil sat at his computer, having already contacted HR to have the forms faxed to him, and sat staring at his phone, debating on calling Fury to tell him to have someone else come help this mission. He even had a plan for how he could leave without drawing attention. It was doubtful that the mission would go smoothly, now. It would probably be for the best. After all, it was Nick's sick sense of humor that put him and Clint together on this mission. While they'd worked hundreds together perfectly in the past, there was too much tension this time around for things to work well. He needed an extraction.

When he finished his shower and put his pyjamas on, just some purple sweat pants and a wife-beater, Clint knocked on the door to 'operations'. "Coulson," he said with a sigh.

Turning the forms over and setting his phone over top of them, Phil turned in his seat. "It's open."

Clint went in and shut the door, leaning against the wall beside it to keep the path clear and get rid of any claustrophobic feeling. Of course he didn't think of it that way in his head, in his head it was more of a 'don't get between the sight lines'.

"I'm gonna ask questions, and they get yes or no answers. Deal?"

Nodding, Phil leaned forward in his chair, hands hanging loose off his knees. "Deal."

Clint crossed his arms and nodded. "Are you uncomfortable pretending we're married."

"It's a mission, Clint." Pressing his lips together, Phil shook his head. "No." Because it was just a mission. "I do believe it wasn't smart to put us in a situation like this, though. You should have been assigned an equal. Not a S.O."

"Yes or No, Coulson. I don't want explanations. I want to ask questions and get answers without all the fancy talkaround part." Clint's jaw tensed. It felt like he was getting a smokescreen thrown up in front of him.

"Fine. I retract my previous answer." Bringing up his guard, he nodded. "Yes. I am."

Clint nodded, watching him intently. Of course he didn't miss the shift. "Were you uncomfortable with it before I kissed you yesterday."

"Yes." It wasn't a lie. Phil had objected to the whole idea, right from the start.

Hurt flashed over Clint's gaze in a blink-you-miss-it. "Would you rather have had this mission with any other agent."

Sitting quiet for a minute, Phil glanced to his feet, fingers curled just barely inwards. He wasn't entirely sure how to answer the question. It was one he couldn't give a yes or no to.

"New question," Clint said after a moment. Quietly. "Did you bring up the Ace thing because you're Ace?" maybe that was the line he'd crossed.

That was one he could answer. Though only with a slight sake of the head and a quiet, "No."

Clint nodded. He wasn't going to ask if he was straight or not, that was Coulson's business. "Did my kissing you gross you out."

"No." Far from it!

That surprised him. "Did you think it grossed _me_ out?" he asked. Trying to figure out where this whole hands off thing came from.

Phil sighed because, once again, it was a question he didn't feel he could answer with just a yes or no. He figured it hadn't, but at the same time, Phil felt strongly that Clint shouldn't have had to be in a position to kiss his ‘boss’.

"I'm not asking for you to solve world peace here, Coulson, I'm trying to find out if I grossed you out." Clint's fingers tapped against his crossed arms.

"I answered that one. No, you didn't gross me out."

"You immediately suggested one of us being Ace, though," Clint said, closing his eyes, his head thunking back against the wall. "How am I supposed to take tha-" he stopped, when his eyes opened, narrowing them as he saw something on one of the screens. "What's that?" he asked.

Phil's attention snapped back to the screens, eyes narrowed as he tried to see what Clint had seen. "Which screen?"

"There," he came closer, earlier tension forgotten, or at least shoved aside. He pointed to the upper left screen and moved to take a closer look again. Something moved along the edge, and it didn't look animal. "Permission to go check it out, sir?"

"Take a comm. Only observe. Do not engage." Phil was already slipping his own ear bud in, fingers flying across the keyboard to enhance the image for a better look.

Clint grabbed one and was gone in moments, pausing only to slip on some dark trainers.

Watching the screens, Phil's brow creased as he called out updates. "They're heading around the northeast corner of the garage."

Clint slipped around to intercept, melting into the shadow, big and blond as he was, crouching, watching. Waiting.

The figure in black slid fluidly around the corner, silent and lithe. They were small, petite, and definitely moved like someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Even to the point of stepping right into Clint's line of sight.

"Oh for fucks sake," Clint growled and stood, putting his hands on his hips. "Seriously?!"

A slow smile curled at the corner of her mouth as she stepped into the light, looking directly to one of their hidden cams to give a slight salute before looking back to Clint. "Fury sent me to make sure things were going well. They aren't getting any feed and were starting to get concerned." Natasha slid closer, arms folded over her chest. "And you could have hidden your bugs a little better, Barton."

"They were hidden well enough," he protested, "And nothing's HAPPENED yet."

Well, nothing except somehow alienating his handler, but whatever. Story of his life.

Natasha hummed softly and glanced around. "Suitter is no fool, Clint. I found the bugs without a problem, if he were to take a walk around his grounds, he'd find them easily enough, too. And that's not what I meant. I meant they aren't getting _anything_. No sound, no picture. Just a lot of snow."

"What." Clint shook his head, frowning. "They were working when they were set."

Phil frowned as he looked over his screens. Everything looked like it was working. He was receiving data -- obviously -- so why wasn't SHIELD? "Everything is working here. I'll call base, find out what's going on."

Natasha gave a small shrug, slipping past Clint to start back for the safe house. "I've been instructed to come offer an extra set of eyes, and for relief. You're working all day, and Phil can't be glued to the computers twenty-four-seven." She smirked as she quirked a brow at him. "You two have to play the happy new couple on the block eventually."

Clint turned off his comm and shoved it in his pocket. "Honeymoon's over, Tash."

"Well, that didn't take long. He find out you sing in your sleep when you _really_ sleep? Because that's what killed it, for me."

"I kissed him on the corner of his mouth and when the guest left he immediately suggested we play it off as one of us is Ace," Clint said flatly.

"Ouch." Natasha cringed slightly, linking her arm through Clint's and giving it a slight hug before releasing him. "You could run with it, though, you know? I could say I'm the live-in marital aid." Her mouth twitched just slightly in a smirk before falling blank again. "Though, you are both idiots. I will say that."

"Dammit, why couldn't we work," Clint grumbled, scrubbing his hand down his face, still wearing that damn wedding band. "You don't do all that smoke in mirrors explaining stuff."

"I'm sure Fury had a good reason for why he put you and Coulson together on this mission. All you have to do is play nice and pretend to be stupidly in love with each other and this will all be over soon." She moved, stepping out into the street light and onto the path leading up to their front door. "At least _that_ part of that assignment shouldn't be too much of a stretch for you."

"It wasn't, until he basically told me to keep my manky hands to myself," Clint muttered.

"Clint..." Natasha reached out, placing her hand on Clint's arm. "You two have to make a believable couple. I'll try to talk to Coulson, at least get him to agree to playing up the lovey-dovey stage in front of the rest of the ‘Burbs cast... things will work out."

"Twenty bucks says I'm assigned to Sitwell or Wu after this." Clint sighed.

"Sitwell would throw you back to Coulson within a week and Wu would resign after the first time you drop into his office via vent - neither of them want to deal with that." Smiling softly, she kissed his cheek before opening the front door and slipping in. " _And_ Phil would most likely starve to death in his office."

"Nah, I'd still leave stuff for him to eat. He does that ‘you just gotta put it near his elbow or something and he eats it’ thing. It's futzing adorable."

Natasha shook her head fondly. "It's sad how completely gone for him you are. I'm going to have to put up with even worse pining from you both now, aren't I?"

"Both?" Clint snorted. "Tash, he JUST told me that he didn't want to do this mission with me, from the get-go."

"For someone who prides himself on being able to see what others can't, you certainly are blinded to this, aren't you?" Sighing, she reached up, patting his cheek just hard enough to lightly sting. "Where is he? He needs to sleep, and not in front of the computers."

"Upstairs to the left, I'll do a perimeter and lock up."

Lifting herself up enough to kiss Clint's cheek, Natasha turned and started up the stairs, pausing to look back at him. "Clint. You will forever be a train wreck and a silly boy, [but you’re my silly train wreck, no matter what.] Everything will be alright."

"Love you, too!" Clint called before letting himself out and making sure they were all secure for the night.

 **Phil sat scowling** at the computer screens, waiting for either Clint or Natasha to appear and talk about what was going on with the uplink. Which apparently was being blocked by a heavy duty feed. That didn't explain why they could see and hear things on their end, though.

"Go to bed," Natasha said when she opened the door. "Your back will thank me tomorrow."

Turning to glance over his shoulder, Phil felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards in a small smile. "Fury never said we were getting a house guest."

"He would have, if he could have gotten a hold of you."

Phil shrugged slightly, looking back to his screens. That didn't make much sense either. He'd managed to get hold of HR to have those forms faxed to him... but yet Fury couldn't get through to them? "There's something strange about this. It's almost as if this guy was expecting someone to be trying to snoop on him. Like he was expecting us... but why block just the uplink? Why not block it completely so that we can't get any feed either?"

"Because then you'd know you weren't getting any feed. Go to bed, I'll keep watch and see about piggybacking someone else's wifi to get information back to Nick."

Sighing, he nodded and pushed himself out of the chair. "Thank you, Natasha." He offered a soft, fond smile and a rare show of affection -- a dropped kiss to her forehead -- before slipping from the room and heading for the bedroom.

"Goodnight."

"G'nite," Clint said as he made his way up the stairs, pausing awkwardly.

Phil lifted his head, glancing out the bedroom door. "...G'nite..." he grabbed his sleep pants and T-Shirt from the drawer before slipping quickly into the bathroom to shower and change for bed.

Clint sighed and headed for the guest room again.

There was no half-mumbled singing that night.

 **The following morning,** Natasha slipped up next to Clint. "I will be taking the guestroom." She announced, in her tone that clearly said it wasn't a question.

"Since we're sleeping in shifts it doesn't matter, does it?”

"It does matter." Reaching into the fridge, she pulled a grapefruit from the bottom fruit drawer and set about cutting it. "The bed smells like you. There's only so much you a woman can take." Her eyes flashed as she turned her head quickly to pin him with a look. "And no, that was not an invitation to make a penis or sex joke."

Clint stopped mid eyebrow waggle. "Awww c'mon.”

Brow quirked, Natasha smirked slyly but turned to go sit at the table. "You'll have to pretend to be an adult, Clint. I saw the bed in that room, it's a King. There's plenty of room for two grown men to sleep in it without touching."

"That's not the problem, and you know it," he said, taking down the cereal.

"Both of you need to grow up. Because if you behave like children, I'll be forced to treat you as such." Natasha paused, looking back to him. "And something tells me it's generally frowned on to lock 'children' in small closets together."

"Y'know what, I'll hit Burger King on the way to the house. Have a nice day!" Clint said, escaping toward the door.

Phil was in the middle of a wide yawn, his eyes closed as he shuffled his way down the stairs, stepping off just at the same moment Clint tried making a break for the door. He felt himself collide into something - some _one_ \- and his balance faltered slightly.

"Woah hey," Clint turned and caught him before his nose would smash into the wall. A second. Two.... six.... ten... and he pulled away as if burned. "Sorry."

Without his glasses on, or his contacts in, Phil stood in the middle of the hall looking completely rumpled and still half asleep. Soft around the edges. He blinked blearily before taking a step back. "Sorry."

"Tasha's in the kitchen, she's kickin' me out of the guest room cos I got boy cooties or whatever. I'm... just gonna go to work, now."

"I'll mov--"

"Coulson, I've decided to make blini since Clint is leaving early. Come help me." Natasha appeared in the doorway before Phil could even finish his thought. The woman knew what he was going to say and she'd be damned if she was going to put up with their constant pining and ridiculousness any longer than necessary.

Clint pouted loudly at her before going off to work. SO not fair.

Phil turned, watching Clint leave before slipping into the kitchen. "Don't have me read anything, I'm not wearing my glasses..." he murmured, pulling two plates down and finding the forks for them. "Why did you kick Clint out of the guest room, Natasha?"

"Because I could, and I don't want to share the drooly pillows."

"You've never seemed to have objected to that in the past." Phil ran his hand down his face "Did you manage to find a signal to piggyback? Is SHIELD able to retrieve the feed now?"

"It's spotty, but it'll do for now," Natasha told him. "I'm taking the pillow you didn't use, leaving his on the bed. It's a king, you're a big boy," she said, mixing up the batter.

Sighing, Phil simply nodded. He knew Clint well enough to know that the man would no doubt find somewhere else to sleep at night. The bed would be the absolute last resort for him. "I need to make a phone call. Let me know when the blini are ready?"

"I will."

 **"Oops!" Natasha said,** half an hour later, as she spilled sticky syrup all over the couch. Yes, okay, Phil would probably be upset with her for it, but she'd get it cleaned. And while she was getting it cleaned, Clint would be forced to sleep in the bed - unless he slept on the floor.

Phil wasn't an idiot, he knew exactly what Natasha was really up to, though he decided it wasn't worth calling her on it. His paperwork for reassignment was already filled out. All he had to do was fax it back, and get hold of Fury to have it rush approved. Which was more difficult than it should have been. Not even Hill was answering her phone. How, and why, was this his life??

 **By the time Clint** came home from work, having run out of excuses to stay late and actually getting home in the vicinity of on time, the couch was gone to the cleaners. He paused at the mailbox to check for mail, something he figured normal people did.

"Clint?" A woman's voice sounded from behind him. "Hi!"

He put on a smile and turned, "Hi there, how are you doing today?" he asked, searching his head for her name. Caren? Carol? _Caroline_ , that's right.

Caroline's own smile was bright and friendly. "I'm doing great! I haven't seen Phillip out and about but, I was actually on my way over to invite you both to my place for supper tomorrow night. I'm having a few folks over and actually having a little party of sorts that I think you two might find an interest in." She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows playfully before breaking out into a wide grin.

God. She was like Stark, only with boobs. "Um. Sure! I'll have to ask Phil, but if he didn't plan anything, we'd love to come," he smiled. "What sort of party?"

"Just a friendly little gathering. Don't worry, I promise it's nothing bad. Just... some fun and games and story swapping."

"Okay." Clint smiled slightly and nodded. "I'll ask him. I'm just now getting home, so," he waved a little awkward bye.

"Oh of course! I'll see you guys tomorrow night, hopefully? Supper starts at six, if you can make it." Grinning her megawatts grin, Caroline turned to continue her jog down the block.

"Sure thing, Caroline," he said before making his way inside. "We're invited to Caroline's tomorrow night."

Phil glanced up from his place on the loveseat in the livingroom. "What'd you tell her?"

"Said I'd ask if you had plans," he said, setting down the toolbox and kicking off his shoes. Then he blinked. "Where'd the couch go?"

"Natasha 'accidentally' spilled syrup all over it, this morning"

"Awww couch," Clint sighed, eyeing the loveseat. He was pretty sure he could manage it if he hung his legs off the side.

Phil shifted on the loveseat awkwardly. Clearing his throat, he stood. "I was planning to just toss a frozen pizza in for supper... unless you know of something else we could have?"

"No that's fine, is Tasha sleepin'?"

"No, she woke up about a half hour ago. I think she's in the guest room reading."

Clint sighed. "Okay, I'll just go take the shower. Whatever's fine for me, if you wanna put it in, boss."

"I'll let you know when it's ready," Phil slipped quietly from the room, disappearing into the kitchen.

Clint sighed, thundered uncharacteristically up the stairs, and shut himself into the shower. Today's song (it was a challenge to himself to get everything done in the course of one song) was American Pie.

 **Leaning against the counter** as he waited for the oven to heat up, Phil tried Fury's number again. Nothing. He tried the personal cell phone number. Still nothing. Folding his arms over his chest, his shoulders sagged. He hoped this mission would be over soon, so maybe things could go back to the way they were before. If they were even able to now at this point.

"...Saw you dancin' in the gym! Before y'a' kicked off tha shoes, Oh ... somethin’ the rhythm and blueees...."

"You know, it's very hard to focus on anything with you in here belting obnoxiously long songs out." Natasha pulled the curtain back, quirking a brow at him.

Clint had learned ages ago to expect nosy women at the worst times. The only one he squeaked about anymore was Katie, and that's cos she was, like, four. He kept washing his hair. "It's how I keep from hiding in the shower for an HOUR."

Sighing and muttering a few choice Russian words under her breath, she stripped down and slipped into the shower behind him. "Move your hands." She reached up, smoothing her fingers through his hair. "Come here, [Little Hawk]...."

Clint sighed and let her do it for him. Felt nice getting taken care of. "I don't wanna be reassigned," he grumbled. "I got dragged into this SHIELD thing kicking and screaming, you know that - but I don't know how to go back to NOT doing it."

"You won't be reassigned," Natasha smoothed her hands over his neck and shoulders before going back to washing through his hair. "Coulson would never let you be reassigned or sent away. He'd ask for himself to be reassigned."

"Same thing."

"His reassignment would be in an attempt to keep things friendly and professional. You'd still have me. If you were to be reassigned, that wouldn't be a sure thing. Turn. Head tilted back."

"Nobody's gonna take me on. You, sure - you behave," he turned and tilted his head back, closing his eyes against the suds. "I'm gettin' a pink slip or whatever it's called. Maybe I'll take my pay and go be a landlord or somethin'."

"You'd never be able to keep yourself out of trouble, _and_ you'd be bored by the end of the first hour." Her fingers smoothed the shampoo out of his hair, before reaching for the conditioner. "Nothing is going to happen, Clint, but you are both idiots." Sighing, she tilted his head back down so she could look him in the eyes. "You need to relax, and take your mind off of things for a little while." Slowly, her hands slid down his arms until his hands were in hers, a knowing look on her face, the silent offer.

He leaned down and kissed her softly, hands in hers, then sighed, resting his forehead against her hair. He knew the offer being made, just like he knew SHE knew he wasn't going to take it. "If I admit I'm an idiot, can I have the guest room back?" he asked, lips quirking in a small smile.

"No, [Little Hawk]. I'm sorry, but no." She was, too, but at the same time, she wanted both of ‘her boys’ to be happy. And the only way for that to happen, was for them to pull their heads out of their asses and fess up to their feelings.

Clint pouted loudly, but had to accept it. Natasha never did anything (at least on purpose) to hurt him. Not for a very long while. He gathered her in a close embrace, nothing more, just because he needed to hold and be held for a minute. He wasn't as sure that he wasn't going to be out on his ear when this was over.

Holding him close for longer than she'd allow anyone else to touch her, Natasha hummed softly to him until it was time to wash the conditioner from his hair. Pulling back, she cupped his chin gently. "You will be fine. Now come on. Get dried off and dressed. We're going to sit downstairs and watch a movie with Coulson. I was thinking Lord of the Rings."

"Because it's long or because Aragorn's hot?" Clint asked as he stepped back and let her help him rinse his hair properly.

"Can't it be both?" She smirked and shrugged nonchalantly, giving him a playful nudge so his entire head went under the spray of water.

Clint sputtered, coughed, and laughed.

When they were done, with her towel wrapped around her, Natasha opened the bathroom door. She paused on her way out, pressing a kiss to Clint's cheek before disappearing into the guest room without a word.

Clint huffed, shaking his head, drying off his hair. He had brought clothes with him into the bathroom, so he had on his wifebeater and pyjama pants as he stepped out. "[You are a menace, beautiful!]" he teased her before turning to head down the stairs and stopping. Well crap.

Downstairs, Phil pulled the finished pizza from the oven, let it set for a moment before he cut it, and put it out on the coffee table in the living room - three glasses with ice and soda setting there also. Glancing to the stairs, he started up them to bring his teammates down for food.

Of course, he wasn’t expecting to see _that_.

Phil kept his face blank, not letting a single thing show. "The pizza's ready." He gave a small nod, eyes glancing to the guest room before he turned to head back down the stairs.

"Awesome," Clint said before tossing the towel back onto the rack and banging his head against the wall a few times.

When Natasha stepped from her room fully dressed and hair pulled up into a ponytail, she glanced him over before looking towards the stairs. "...Clint?"

"In the purpose of full disclosure, I'm ninety-nine percent sure that Coulson's one-hundred-eighty percent certain we're sleeping together. Just sayin’."

Hand resting on his arm, she tilted her head curiously. "Will that make things easier or harder if he believes that?"

"I don't know. It's like that damn song." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Let's just get the mission done, and we'll figure it out later."

Nodding, Natasha slipped down the stairs ahead of Clint, folding herself into the armchair and leaving only the loveseat to sit on. It was enough space that it prevented her from sitting close to Clint, but not far enough to be suspicious.

Everyone knew how much he hated sitting on hardwood floors if he didn't have to, so Clint flopped onto the loveseat, _hah_ , and reached for a slice of the pizza.

Phil scooted to make sure there was plenty of room there for both of them, before he grabbed up the remote and hit play on the DVD player; though he kept his eyes on the TV and the pizza.

Clint... didn't. But he'd also worked hard that day. They were only halfway to rivendell when he fell asleep, slipping to lean against Phil's shoulder.

When he felt Clint completely relax against him, Phil gave a small frown, the corners of his eyes pinched and tight as he looked down at the man's sleeping face. Gently, he slipped out from under him and lay him carefully on the loveseat. "You're welcome to stay down here and finish the movie, Natasha. I'm going upstairs. I will see you in the morning."

Natasha gave him a Look. "You're going to make Clint sleep there, on the loveseat, when you know he's got another twelve or so hours hard labor ahead of him tomorrow?"

Brows furrowed, he glanced back to Clint and sighed, shaking his head. He couldn't do that to Clint, no. Carefully, he shook the man's shoulder, waking him up just enough for him to mostly move on his own. "Clint... come on."

"Mn..?" Clint opened his eyes and got to his feet swaying a little. It was testament to how much he trusted Phil and Natasha, that he didn't wake up any more than that, shuffling along.

Phil helped to keep Clint steady, leading him up the stairs and into the guest room like he'd been staying in. Surely Natasha wouldn't complain all _that much_ about sharing the bed with him tonight. Leaving him dressed, Phil pulled the blanket up over him and took a quick step back, not wanting to linger too close for too long.

Clint was _out_ in seconds, in a way he hadn't been the two nights previous. "My one love affair.... din't get anywhere.... from the start.... ...send me a joe... who had wint'r 'n snow, 'n his heart... wasn' smar....t-" he mumblesang.

Phil stood there for a moment longer, watching Clint and listening to him sing in his sleep. The fact the archer did sing in his sleep wasn't news to Phil, it just always amused him. It was endearing. He reached out to brush Clint's bangs from his eyes, only to stop part way and pull back. Sighing, he slipped from the room and back into the master bedroom to curl up in bed and try to sleep.

Somewhere in the middle of night, a pot of water upended on the bed. "Oops." Natasha said, picking it up. "I'll get another one for the humidifier." Then she flounced out of the room. Yes. Flounced. She was ticked off, after all.

Phil startled awake, finding himself suddenly soaking wet and not exactly pleased about it. What was Natasha even doing with that water to begin with?! And in his room was probably the even _better_ question. Groaning, he changed his clothes (boxers and a different T-shirt) before just making his way to the guest room. He was too tired to even care that Clint was asleep in that bed.

Clint was curled up as small as his six foot and change frame could get, wrapped around his pillow, still mumble singing. Something about ‘in your shadow I can shine’.

Phil settled himself down on the bed, slipping under the blankets carefully, not wanting to wake the archer. The bed was warm and comfortable, especially for having someone else in it. The king size he'd been sleeping in had been too big for just him. Too empty, and exposed.

This felt safe.

Rolling onto his own side, he curled himself up and let himself drift back off to sleep. And should his foot tangle up around one of Clint's ankles in the night, he couldn't really be blamed... could he?

 **Clint mumblesang on and off** through the night falling silent around dawn, ankles securely tangled with Phil's. He slowly woke, barely registering that he wasn't asleep anymore. He yawned hugely and tucked up against the warmth he found close by.

Phil slept peacefully through the rest of the night, not even noticing when Clint started, or stopped, singing in his sleep. It was shortly after dawn when he started to wake, the sunlight coming through the window to spill across them both. Groaning softly, he shifted and stretched and was suddenly very much aware of the body snuggled in behind him.

"Mmfphfle," Clint grumbled, still mostly asleep and throwing an arm around him, nosing into his side.

Swallowing hard, Phil forced his mind to relax and go blank. Clint was still asleep. All he had to do was slip away without being noticed. He could do that, right? With a deep, steadying breath, Phil picked up Clint's arm and carefully began to slip away, tugging his pillow down so Clint was hugging that instead.

Clint whined a little, opening sleepy eyes and reaching for his bedmate. Huh. Phil. This was awesome. "C'm back't bed," he mumbled, one hand snagging in the back of Phil's shirt to hang on.

Phil stumbled slightly and turned one way, then the other in an attempt to get Clint's fingers free from his shirt. "Go back to sleep."

Clint pouted, sitting up a little and curling his arm around him, pressing his lips chastely to the back of his neck before resting his cheek on his shoulder with a yawn. "C'mon, dun wanna get up, yet."

"Clint... go back to sleep." Phil carefully extracted himself, despite wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed and curl back into Clint.

Clint pouted, nuzzling at Phil's back before laying back down and curling up, closing his eyes and drifting from 'dream' to dream.

Taking a deep breath, Phil shook his head and slipped from the room, disappearing back into the master bedroom to grab clean clothes and take a shower before anyone else woke up. He could still feel Clint's warm kisses and breath on the back of his neck, and he clamped his hand there in hopes of keeping the sensation.

Clint woke a little while later, dressed, and shuffled downstairs with a massive yawn to make breakfast happen before he went to work.

Natasha was already sitting on the counter next to the stove when Clint walked in. "Are you going to be home in time for you and the 'Hubby' to go to your neighbor's party tonight?" she asked, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

"Yeah, I kinda promised." He scratched at his hair. "Taaaaash I need to find some sleeping pills, you got any?"

"I could always just knock you out at night," She shrugged like it was the best and most obvious solution to the problem. "Not sleeping well?"

"Dreaming," he said and gave her puppy eyes before stealing the coffee pot.

"Good dreams?" She stole the coffee pot back from him, replacing it with a decent sized mug instead.

"Hmpfh," he pouted. "Awesome dreams," he murmured, then quickly added, "not sex ones. Just... y'know. The good kind."

"Any dream that doesn't end in someone screaming and trying to fight off phantoms is a good dream."

"Best kind, then. When it's just warm and hangin' on, and trying to get him be late for work," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

The corner of her mouth quirked just slightly. "It was a Coulson dream, then, I take it?"

He nodded and shifted his stance before hopping to sit on the counter.

Humming thoughtfully, Natasha reached up to ruffle his hair. "Make sure you eat a good breakfast; I'll make sure Phil is at least nearly ready to leave when you get home tonight."

"Thanks, you're the best." He hopped off the counter, put down the coffee, and went for cereal.

Smiling one of her well practiced smiles, she kissed his cheek before slipping from the counter and heading up the stairs to take up post at the computers again until Phil was awake enough to deal with them.

Clint futzed around, making a huge bowl of frosted mini wheats, then a second, ploughing through them like the hungry guy with an insane metabolism that he was.

Half way through the second bowl, Phil made his way down the stairs, dressed as if it were a lazy Saturday morning, and into the kitchen, pausing only briefly at the sight of Clint sitting at the table. "Morning."

"Mornin'," Clint said, waving his fingers and shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

"I passed Natasha upstairs," Phil stepped up to the cupboards and pulled a bowl for cereal down for himself. "She said you're still planning for us to go to the get together at Caroline's tonight?"

"Unless you had something planned, I did say we'd go," he said, just after swallowing. "If you don't want to go, come up with an excuse I can give her. She seemed way too happy about us coming. Didn't wanna disappoint her - AND free food will be involved. Free food, Phil."

Phil shook his head. "No, no, it's alright. We'll both go."

"Awesome, I'll be back in time to take a shower and look presentable, then."

"I'll be ready when you get here."

"Okidoki karaoke," Clint said before drinking the milk out of the bowl and putting it in the sink. He slipped out of the kitchen and to the door for his shoes without ever once touching Phil.

Phil finished his own breakfast before heading back upstairs to relieve Natasha from the computers. "Question for you, Romanov."

"Answer for you, Coulson." She smiled slightly, and glanced up at him as she stood.

Making sure not to block the door, Phil folded his arms over his chest as he regarded her. "Why the hell did you pour water all over my bed, last night, while I was trying to sleep?"

"I was carrying it to the humidifier, the air's really dry." She smiled sweetly.

"The humidifier is nowhere near my bed."

"It was dark," she said, standing and stretching. "You know, nobody's going to believe you guys are married if you don't spend time together," she said calmly. "The mark's only going to reveal themself to someone in such a position. That's all we know, and you know that. So maybe it's time to stop pushing him away and start to pretend you're married like you're supposed to?"

"We're going to that dinner party thing tonight, we'll be seen there together." Phil slipped by her and moved to sit at the computers, staring intently at them.

"But will you be seen there as married, or as just two men who cohabitate?" Natasha asked, kissing the top of his head and swanning out of the room.

Sighing heavily, Phil groaned inwardly before actually allowing his head to thunk down onto the desk for just a minute... or two. He really, _really_ wished he knew how this had suddenly become his life.

 **That night's shower song** was 'Let it Whip', because Clint was, apparently, insane.

Phil was dressed and ready when Clint got there. Nice slacks, a deep purple dress shirt that had just a touch of shimmer to it, and his the fake wedding band sitting heavy on his left hand.

Surprisingly enough, throughout this whole escapade, Clint hadn't taken off the ring he'd put on that first evening - he was even starting to get a tan line. He dressed in good jeans and a soft grey sweater he pushed up to just below his elbow. He poked his head in the control room at Natasha and _whined_.

Quietly, but still.

Natasha glanced back over her shoulder, looking him over from head to toe. "You clean up nice. I almost forgot how good looking you actually are; when you want to be, and aren't scowling at everyone."

"I'm not scowling, it's my resting face," the blond replied with a huff. "Wish me luck? She met us when I randomly kissed him, she's going to expect me, at least, to be affectionate." Not that that was a hardship. He just had to take off his filters.

"You'll do fine. Just try not to trip over your tongue." Smirking, she turned her attention back to the computers, ending the conversation.

Phil stood at the bottom of the steps, the shirt buttoned all the way until the top two which hung open just a bit. A bottle of wine was in one hand as he most certainly did _not_ fidget by the door waiting for Clint.

Clint skipped stairs on his way down and swallowed at the bared skin. Sure. It was one thing, sharing a decontamination shower, but this? Oh man.... He wiped the stricken look off his face and smiled, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

Smiling softly, Phil gave a nod, reaching out to take Clint's hand instead of his arm. The callouses on his fingers were rough, but not in a terrible way. Actually, it's pretty much exactly how he'd imagined Clint's hand to feel in his. "Let's get going. Did you leave the number of where we'll be with the babysitter?" He really couldn't help teasing as he opened the door to step out onto the front step.

"No, but she knows how to get a hold of us," he said, shifting his grip to lace their fingers. "She said she won't wait up," he teased.

Phil gave a quiet hum and definitely refused to make a comment about whatever bad porn trope there was involving sleeping with the "babysitter". He really just didn't want to go down that road and make things tense right now. Not when they were supposed to be playing nice and acting all lovey-dovey.

Clint locked the door behind them and put a small spring in his step as they walked toward Caroline's house. "You know how I was hanging those windows, today? Turns out the people buying the house need EXTRA security. _So_ , I had to go pick up extra locks, and make sure they all had the same key so that they wouldn't have janitor chains just to get through a summer day."

"Well, if they really need any more extra security, have them give me a call. I'm sure I can come up with something for them." It wasn't terribly hard for Phil to slip into his Phillip James-Walsh persona, and follow Clint across the lawns to Caroline's home next door - just as a few women from down the block got out of their car and waved to both of them, actually giggling to each other as they headed inside.

"I'll put in a word for you - the mom said they got a kid that's a runner, or something. They probably _don't_ mean guns?" He sounded thoughtful on that.

Phil laughed softly, shaking his head though keeping his eyes alert. He'd yet to see any men go into Caroline's house. "No... probably not." Clearing his throat, he slowed his pace just a bit. "Uhm, Clint... honey... what kind of party were we invited to?"

"I... have no idea?" Clint scratched at the back of his neck. "She seemed really excited to invite us, and said she thought it'd be up our alley, though."

"Well... I'm guessing a swingers party is out, given the extreme lack of testosterone here..." Phil pulled Clint up the steps and paused to knock on the door.

"That would have been fuuuunawkward?"

"Awkward... very awkward..." Phil mumbled, quickly bringing his smile back up as the door opened and Caroline invited them in, taking the bottle from Phil's hand.

"Ohhh! You guys are adorable! This will go _great_ with what I have planned for after supper. Come on in, dining room iw down the hall and to the left, make yourselves at home. Mingle!" She disappeared down the hall in a flourish of blond hair, and loud, happy laughter.

Phil stood still for a moment before looking to Clint. "You mingle. You mingle better than I do."

"It's our new neighbourhood, Phil, C'mon - let's meet people, you're not gonna make me meet everyone on my own, are you?" Clint pouted, squeezing his hand and dragging him in, putting on his smile.

"Why not? I've had to." He flinched inwardly, even to his ears it sounded like an accusation -- though he hoped that maybe others (Clint) took it to sound more like the jab of a partner who a little put out at being left alone all the time while their marriage is still fresh and new.

Clint pouted and gave him a look. It was a 'don't hate me' look that lasted half a second before he kissed his cheek and let his hand go. "Wish me luck!" he said, letting Phil be and going to... mingle.

Thing about Clint was he could girl-talk with the best of them. It was ridiculous how good he was at it, being a trophy wife - or whatever.

 **Phil kept mostly to himself** , watching Clint mingle and chat and joke with the women sitting around him, eating up their attention and glowing with happiness. It was an absolutely beautiful sight to be seen, and Phil wished he could have taken a picture as Clint broke into a wide, bright grin - laughing in a way that made his nose scrunch, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. Yeah, he was hopelessly lost for Clint. Which was a hopeless cause to begin with.

That thought was like having a freezing cold glass of water tossed in his lap.

"Not having fun?" A woman asked, touching Phil's shoulder. "I hear you're newlyweds, I'm suprised you're not taking pictures of him or sitting with him while he's all Chatty Cathy," she smiled warmly.

Turning, he tilted his head curiously. "Excuse-- oh, heh," The tips of Phil's ears burned red as he glanced down and away. "Well, he's more of an outgoing one. He loves the attention. I prefer to hang out in the back, keep an eye on him, and make sure the walls don't fall down."

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only awkward turtle here because I couldn't say no to an invite," she said, watching everyone, as well. "They're not so bad," she added. "Easier to take in smaller doses though."

Smiling softly, Phil extended his hand to her in greeting. "Phillip James-Walsh. The dork giving pointers on makeup is my husband, Clint."

"Shanon Morningstar-Wray, my wife's the redhead writing everything down," she smiled back, shaking his hand.

"I have the feeling your wife and my husband are becoming fast friends. I apologize in advance." He chuckled softly, shaking his head fondly as continued to watch the interactions. "Clint was pretty vague on what was going on tonight, and I'm noticing he and I are the only males present. Do... you happen to know what it is I let myself get talked into?"

"Oh no," she bit her lips to hide a laugh. "I'm so sorry, nobody said? It's a passion party. Sex toys and things."

The color visibly drained from Phil's face, his mouth suddenly full of cotton. Oh God... this was a fate worse than death. "Ah... I see...."

"I'll cover for you boys if you want to escape," she offered.

Phil opened his mouth, automatically ready to accept her offer, until he heard Clint's laugh again. Looking back towards him, Phil's eyes softened, and a sad little smile came to his lips. "No, thank you. I don't think I have it in me to pull him away right now."

"Does HE know what kind of party this is?"

"I don't think so. But I honestly don't think he's going to even bat an eye, when he finds out."

"You're welcome to hide in the back with me," she said. "Even in the kitchen, I doubt they'll notice too much."

Sighing softly in relief, Phil nodded. "Thank you. You're a lifesaver. That's probably exactly where I'll be going as soon as supper's over."

She smiled and nodded.

 **Meanwhile, Clint** just got the most startled look on his face amongst the giggles of the rest of the women. "A WHAT?!"

A woman, not too far into her twenties, giggled at Clint's side, nudging him with her elbow gently. "A sex toys party. We eat, we share stories and gossip, and then go into the living room and see what new stuff is available, find out better ways to keep our significant others happy in the bedroom, and then order things. Caroline always has the best toys! And she has a catalog you can look through. I think there's stuff in there for guys. Spice things up for you and _Phiiiiiiiiiill-up_." She winked and wiggled in place just a bit, clearly enjoying this far too much.

Clint only went red because he was NOT expecting this. He thought maybe pampered chef or something. "Wow. Okay, I didn't even know that was a THING."

"Oooohhhh yes. Very much a thing. You'll love it! They're really a lot of fun!"

"Iiiii don't know, I mean, it sounds... awesome. But it's really not my husband's kind of thing-"

Just then, Caroline swept back into the room, holding another dish in her hands, and grinning. "Supper is served. C'mon and sit down, Phillip, no need to stand over there like a stranger."

Phil glanced to Shanon, giving her a grateful smile, before moving to take a seat next to Clint. He couldn't even attempt to hide the blush that was creeping up the back of his neck and into his ears.

Clint bumped shoulders with him and took his hand. one hand tapped out ‘I swear I didn't know'.

Phil squeezed Clint's hand gently. Casting him a tiny half smile, he reached for his water glass, anything to keep his hands busy and avoid having to speak. Something told him this was going to get very awkward, very fast.

As they ate, Clint noticed his wine glas refilling at a ridiculous rate... he also didn't care. anything to get through the party.

Part way through the meal, another woman turned her attention to Phil and Clint, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. "You two have been awfully quiet down there. Come on. Spill. What's the craziest place _you two_ have ever had sex?"

Phil coughed, eyes wide, as he reached for his water.

"Caroool! You can't just ask them that without warning!" The girl, who'd been giggling while telling Clint about the sex toy party, stared at the other woman in shock.

"What? They've been sitting down there holding hands and being silent as statues! They need to loosen up. So tell us. Craziest place ever had sex. And if you wanna be boring, how you guys met or something like that."

"Phil here made too many coconut pineapple scones and invited me to share. It was love at first bite." Clint said. Which... while not entirely accurate, was close enough to the truth.

There was a small chorus of ‘awww’s’ at that, while a couple more giggled before the sex topic was brought up again. "Fair's fair, we've been sharing stories, you boys' turn."

"My office," Phil said, staring at his plate. "Before we moved, when I was working at an office. He came by for a surprise lunch, and we put the wall and cabinets to good use." He never lifted his eyes, though his cheeks and ears were practically radiating heat, they were so red.

Heat settled low in Clint's belly and... yeah. That would... definitely be something he'd be open to.

He finished another glass of wine.

Phil really wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Why had he said that? Why would he say that with Clint sitting right there next to him?!

"Yeah, but that's not crazy. Not unless the door was hanging wide open or something."

Phil shrugged and quickly downed another glass of water without a word.

"Not like it's soundproofed," Clint managed to say, a small smirk on his lips. "I'm not known by, well, _anyone_ to be quiet." He'd just finished another half glass, seeming not to really notice as someone refilled his glass again.

Phil rolled his lips together, daring to glance up at the others at the table, and instantly regretting it.

"Oooohhhhhhh... Soooo, who is usually on top and bottom?"

"CAROL!"

"What!? We asked the same thing with Shanon and Debra!"

"I bottom," Clint said, and yep, the wine had certainly gotten to his head now. "Can't get enough of it, really." He looked over at Phil and couldn't hide the heat in his eyes. "I'm a clingy fucker, right?" he asked, resting his lips against Phil's clothed shoulder, looking through his eyelashes.

The room was suddenly a hundred times warmer and Phil could feel his heart about to pound out of his ribcage. This was cruel. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this, but this whole mission was the worst kind of torture he'd ever gone up against. Swallowing hard, he gave a small, awkward nod and shoulder shrug. "You can be... yes..." Taking a breath, he gently pushed himself away from the table. "Excuse me for a moment, though. Four glasses of water is..." letting the words trail off, he shrugged apologetically and slipped off down the hall, locking himself into the bathroom to regroup.

Clint looked entirely confused and pouty after him. Then he slumped. _Then_ he reached for the wine. In for a penny... in for a pound.

If he was going to fuck up, he was going to do it thoroughly and spectacularly. At least then it'd be worth it. Maybe.

When Phil returned, the women were all giggling again, trying to coax Clint into telling them more about him and Phil. This was definitely a bad idea. Especially given how many drinks Clint had had.

"Alright my dears, why don't we relocate to the living room, and we'll get things started! Clint? Phillip? There's a couple of things I made sure I brought out especially for you two!" Caroline practically sang as she stood and motioned for everyone to follow her into the room across the hall.

"Sex toys. Yay," Clint said in a very sardonic tone, letting himself be dragged into the room.

Someone linked their arm through Clint's, dragging him along and leaning against him. "Oh c'mon now, Clint! This is the good stuff." Leaning in closer, she smiled as she whispered. "You can buy a vibrating cockring that'll totally rock both your worlds."

Clint absolutely did not groan at the thought. Nope. Not at all. Not a peep.

The roar of giggles that followed said otherwise on the matter.

Phil took a deep breath and hung back, leaving the others to go off and have fun. He slipped off to the kitchen to drink coffee and possibly play on his phone.

...Only to look up half an hour later to hear Clint say, "No, look, suck on the way back up, not on the way down, less teeth that way. Like this." and he opened his mouth and deep-throated a ridiculously sized dildo.

Phil's phone nearly hit the floor. He watched Clint take it down and made it look ridiculously easy. Not to mention incredibly hot.

Just then, Clint looked through his eyelashes toward the kitchen, slowly drawing off, cheeks hollow, lips stretched, and flicked his tongue over the tip before giving a little grin.

The quiet whimper that escaped him was just purely pathetic. Quickly, Phil looked away, back down at his phone.

` [text to Nick F] Nick, I'm begging you, as a friend, please take me off this mission. Please. `

"It's not just about getting him off, y'know?" Clint said, his conspiratory tone far louder than it should have been due to being unintentionally (intentionally) drunk (and boy was he going to regret this tomorrow, thank God it was his day 'off'). "If you're not having fun, he's not having fun. Don't do it if you don't like it, he'll be able to tell, and he'll feel guilty later. But if you DO like it, make sure he knows it. Also? Your voice _vibrates_."

Clint's eyes drifted shut and he flicked his tongue along the length, sucked at the side before taking it down with a low, moan. And okay, yeah, he was imagining it was Phil.

Lips rolled together and pressed tight between his teeth, Phil scowled down at his phone. He didn't know what kind of twisted game Fury was playing, but he'd about had as much as he could stand.

Pushing himself up from where he was sitting, he slipped down the hall, pausing just long enough to give Shanon a small smile. "It was nice meeting you," Looking over her shoulder, into the living room, he sighed heavily. "Excuse me Caroline, I'm sorry, but I need to get home. Thank you for inviting us. Clint, I'll see you at home, later."

Without another word, he slipped out the door, phone to his ear and pretending like he'd gotten a work thing that needed handling.

Clint dropped the dildo, and watched him leave, looking entirely like a kicked puppy. Apparently Phil wasn't interested in what he could do to him. . . .

"I... I gotta go," Clint said, getting up and vaulting over the couch, not even stumbling as his head swam; and he chased after him, once he got his head working again, after minutes of shocked silence on his part.

 **Finally letting emotion get the better of him** , Phil slammed the door on his way in and took the stairs two at a time. He didn't want to deal with anyone or anything. Moving into the ‘office’ he grabbed the paperwork up off the desk and punched in the number to fax them. He had to do it. Now. He had to put distance between them. He couldn't take it anymore.

Phil was practically vibrating with frustration, more so as the forms actually went through. Whatever had been ‘wrong’ before, apparently wasn't anymore. Which meant Fury was purposefully ignoring him whenever he texted or called. Letting the last one go through on its own, he turned, storming his way into the master bedroom and shut-locking the door behind him. Childish and immature? Quite possibly. Did he care? Not in the least.

Clint ran up the stairs, two at a time, taking a turn into the control center and, not seeing Phil, looked to Natasha. "How important is this mission," he demanded.

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed as she turned to face him, utterly confused. "What?"

"Nevermind, I'm calling it. Stuff isn't going through to command anyway," he turned out of the room and went to go pack his stuff up in the master bedroom.

Which was locked.

He pounded on the door. "Open it!"

"Clint! You can't call a mission! You don't have the authority to do that!" Natasha protested, coming out of the control center to stare at him with both confusion and concern in her eyes. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't fucking care. New cover story. Phil left the party when I was teaching the girls about blow jobs because he wanted to get home to the woman staying with us and get one himself, I don't fucking know, I don't care. The mark can think we broke ourselves up!" he turned and stalked down. His things would make their way back to him eventually, and Tony was awesome and would probably throw some clothes or a new bow or whatever at him if he finally agreed to move into the mansion part time.

"Barton you freeze right now or so help me I will take you down." Natasha growled, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I don't know what the hell is going on, but I do know that Phil came storming in here just like you did, and faxed _these_ off to command." She thrust the Handler Reassignment forms at Clint, forcing him to see them.

Clint looked at the forms, grit his jaw, and turned, continuing down the stairs. "I quit."

"Clint! You didn't even _read_ them!" Natasha stormed off after him, grabbing his arm and pulling him to a stop before thrusting one page into his hand. "Read it."

In the ‘Reason for Reassignment Request’ section at the bottom of the last page, was Phil's neat, precise writing.

> _As per stated in the SHIELD Handbook, chapter 8, section 6, paragraph 2, 'A handler must notify their direct supervisor and immediately request a reassignment should they find themselves in a situation with their assigned specialist that they feel may result in a conflict of interest. Including but not limited to: believing of a betrayal, acts of personal interest and conflicts, an inability to focus on the mission due to a personal attachment and/or attraction to said specialist.' I am unable to continue this assignment with Clint Barton due to my personal attachment and attraction to him. Barton should not have been assigned a superior officer for this mission to begin with, as it included moments of required acts of affection and portrayal of a happy intimate couple. In essence, what could be considered coerced and forced seduction of a superior officer. Not to mention my own feelings clouding judgements, and becoming an increasing cause of concern for the integrity of this mission. It is my request and recommendation, that I be taken off this mission and that Agent Natasha Romanov be assigned in my place._

Clint read through, slowly, and then again before looking at his best friend. "Let me go. I’m leaving."

"Clint... you said so yourself, you're ninety-nine percent sure that Phil is a hundred and eighty percent certain that you and I are sleeping together."

"It doesn't matter!" Clint's voice was raised and hell, they probably could hear him back at the party, at this rate - and he. didn't. care. "You see what he wrote! He will never, EVER accept a come on from me, even if he does want it. HE's too fucking GOOD for me, Tasha. You think I don't fucking know that?! I've been in love with him for YEARS - And now I can't even work with him? I. Will. Never. See. Him. Again. He will keep himself so far away, I'll never - _never_ \- get to hear him in my ear keeping me in my head when things go wrong. I'll never... I can't do this without him, Nat. I never wanted to be SHIELD to begin with, and I'm NOT- I work with him, and you, and Nick. And I can't work for SHIELD without HIM. I WON’T."

Natasha's shoulders squared as she stared him down, jaw set. "You know if you quit, he won't be your superior officer anymore. Which means he'd have no reason to turn down any advances you might try to make."

Clint shook his head. "If I can find him." He said, and shook off her hand, reaching for the door.

"This was never an official op,"

"I figured that out last night, Nat," Clint said. "I kept going on with it because. . . . Because I wanted those moments where I could hold his hand for no reason, okay? Is that so bad?"

Natasha took a step forward, her voice softer, eyes sympathetic. "Phil doesn't know. He's still under the impression that this is a real op. Not just some hairball scheme cooked up by his best friends in an attempt to put you two knuckleheads together so you'll finally stop pining over each other and do something about it."

"Nick shoulda just told him, Tash... just. Let me go. I bet Lucky's chewed up the couch again, and I should get back before Katie-Kate replaces it with some chic monstrosity. I'll get a cab."

"Clint..." She reached out, though never took hold of his shirt or arm, simply letting him slip out the door.

Clint walked through the neighbourhood. He knew he wouldn't find a cab until he got farther into town. At least the cool night air might help his head clear from that damn Wine.

 **Meanwhile, Phil** stood leaning against the door, head tilted back and eyes shut, trying hard to process everything he'd heard. His world felt a little like it was crumbling down around him, but in a thousand, tiny, insanely sharp little shards. Swallowing hard, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

` [text to Nick F] Cover’s blown. Op terminated. Fuck you.`

`[text to Cheese] Op's a Decoy. What the fuck happened.`

Jaw clenched, Phil quickly smashed his finger down on the call back number, put the phone on speaker and started around the room, gathering up his things and Clint's few belongings. If one of Clint's tattier hoodies wound up in Phil's bag ...oops.

As soon as the line clicked to pick up, Phil was glaring at the phone. " 'What the fuck happened'? 'What the...' I'll tell you what the fuck happened. You deliberately assigned me to this mission, under false pretenses and knowing full well that I would be emotionally compromised! You've done some arrogant things in the past, Nick, but this time you've gone too far. You cost me a friendship, and you lost Barton because of this whole thing!"

"Woah woah back up," Nick said. "The whole POINT was emotional compromise, now what's this about losing Barton?"

Phil threw his full bag towards the door, not even flinching when it hit hard against the wood. "He quit. He left."

"Then why the hell are you on the phone with me, GO AFTER HIM."

Clenching his fists in frustration, Phil canceled the call and stood there, staring down at the phone. He wanted to go after Clint, and finally get to explain himself, but... he couldn't. He felt foolish and ridiculous; and worse, he felt like a bratty child throwing a fit cuz they couldn't have their way. He was too embarrassed with himself to go after Clint.

The phone buzzed with one text after another, like Nick knew what he was doing. Each one told him to `GO AFTER HIM.`.

Phil turned his phone off, dropping it into the bottom of a duffel. This whole ‘mission’ had been a mess from the start, and it was mostly his own fault, especially for assuming things when he shouldn't have.

Sighing, he finished packing his clothes into his bags, followed by Clint's things into his own. Maybe he could have Natasha take them to him. Or, maybe, he could put his stupidity aside for a little while and deliver it himself. Later.

Natasha didn't bother knocking on the door. "I know you heard at least half of that. The half you didn't hear was that he's quitting because he refuses to work for SHIELD without a chance to see you. You're both idiots, and in love with each other, and Clint's too foolish to make the first move. If you do not meet him at that ratty apartment of his, and leave now, I will make sure to tell Tony where you keep your collections."

 **It took Clint two days** to make it back to his apartment. Not because he walked from Long Island, or anything like that, but because he stayed to finish putting in the security measures for the family’s house, first. He knew a lot about security from the past few years, after all.

He was tired, and very much doing his best not to think about his lost chance with Coulson, as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment.

Phil sat on Clint's couch, staring at his hands. He'd brought the archer's things back with him and, finding the door unlocked, had just let himself in and decided to wait for him.

That had been twenty-six hours ago.

Clint shut the door with a kick of his foot, scratching his hair and immediately pulling off his two day old henley when he blinked, dropping it on the floor. "Huh?"

Phil sat up a bit straighter. It was obvious, just by looking at him, that he hadn't slept much. If at all. Swallowing hard, he offered a weak smile. "Hi, Clint."

Clint watched him a moment, and then remembered what Natasha said. He approached slowly, like he was worried Phil wasn't, well... real. "I quit SHIELD."

Phil stood, his hands loose at his sides. He wasn't dressed in a suit, instead he was in his jeans and T-shirt, like he'd been the day Clint arrived at the safe house. "I know. I heard."

"That means if I do something, you can't say it's because I'm being coerced," he pointed out, stopping right in front of him, looking down intently at him.

"No, I can't." He answered simply enough, mostly because he wasn't sure he trusted his voice to say much more than that and not do something embarrassing - like crack.

"If you tell me to stop, I will," Clint stated.

Phil swallowed hard, eyes darting from Clint's down to his lips and back up to meet his eyes again. "I'm not going to-"

Clint didn't touch him, he kept his hands at his sides, he didn't press his chest close or crowd him. He simply leaned down and kissed him, full on the mouth. Chaste at first, a gentle press of lips followed by a soft nibble at his lower lip, tongue swiping across it to catch his taste.

Phil absolutely did _not_ keep his hands to himself. They moved first, to settle lightly on Clint's hips, but as soon as he felt the nibble and lick to his lip, they shifted to Clint's shoulders, pulling them both closer to each other, chest to chest so that Phil could let the kiss deepen just a bit more.

Only then did Clint touch, hands grasping Phil's hips as he dragged his tongue across the seam of his lips, teasing his way into Phil's mouth, and kissing him with every years-long pent up emotion he had.

Phil wasn't even the least bit embarrassed by the sounds coming out of him as he kissed back, pouring all of his own pent up feelings into the kiss. He curled his fingers into Clint's hair and sighed, moaned, at feeling how soft and thick his hair actually was.

Clint pulled back, their breaths mingling. "Futzing _Years_ ," he told him, before one hand grabbed the back of Phil's neck and Clint pulled him into a far more devouring kiss.

Taking a step back, Phil pulled Clint with him until they were both moving to the couch. Kissing standing up was great and all, but sitting down was better. Horizontal even more so, but one step at a time. He groaned, swiping his own tongue out to fight against Clint's, losing himself in the feel and taste of him.

Clint sat with him, mouth moving now toward Phil's throat. "At the party? What I did... Can I?" His teeth caught Phil's earlobe, dragged across before letting go. "Please."

A strangled, stuttered groan bubbled up out of Phil as he nodded quickly, already starting to slip down a bit on the couch. "Y-yeah... I wanted you to... but... I thought... I didn't think you-"

Clint chuckled, nipping at the edge of his jaw. "I was showing off, _duh_ ," he said, moving back and tugging at the fastener to Phil's jeans.

Biting his lower lip, Phil tilted his head back and lifted his hips, letting his jeans and boxers be pulled down, a hand coming back to curl into Clint's hair again. "I thought you and Natasha...."

"Comfort friends, and... not for a long time," he said, pulling everything down and nuzzling the base of Phil's cock. "Do you really want to have this conversation when I'm about to swallow you down?"

Phil groaned, slipping lower on the couch. "No. Really don't. God, Clint."

"Just Clint's fine," he said, licking a long stripe along Phil's cock, hands pressing into his hips as he mouthed along the length, licking all over and getting him good and hard and wet.

Biting his lip hard between his teeth, Phil gripped the couch cushion hard in one hand, while the other sat loose on the back of Clint's neck. He kept his hips down, not letting them buck him up into Clint's mouth, though that didn't mean he didn't squirm and shift under him.

Clint tongued the slit, then shifted his hands to the couch. "You can fuck my throat if you want," he said conversationally before swallowing him to the root.

"Shit... Clint. You can't just say things like that..." Phil groaned, his body tense even as he started thrusting, careful not to go too fast or to hurt Clint.

Clint finally made sound, groaning in low aborted noises as the head of Phil's cock closed off his throat. Soft and hot going down, sucking on the way back up, tongue flicking across skin as he watched Phil intently.

Gasping softly, Phil continue to rock his hips up into Clint's mouth, bit off groans of his own at the feel of Clint's throat vibrating around his cock’s head. "Clint... Clint...." He whimpered softly.

Clint ran his fingertips down Phil's thigh as he twisted slightly, sucking a little harder now and then to keep things interesting. He was _loving it_.

His name left Phil's lips like a chant, intermixed with pleas and whimpers, and moments of asking Clint to suck just a little harder, or to moan a bit more while Phil's tip was deep in the back of his throat. Phil could feel his thighs start to tremble and the tightness in the pit of his stomach start to grow and turn bright hot.

He gently cupped Phil's balls in hand as he kept going, watching him with a gaze far more heated than the one he'd been watchng him with before.

Gasping, Phil jerked and thrust up again, his head back against the cushion and eyes shut. " _Cliiiint..._ "

He moaned low and swallowed around him.

Shaking, Phil gasped out louder, biting off a loud groan as the tension finally snapped and he came, hard, right down the back of the Clint's throat.

Clint only coughed a little, swallowing him down and slowly licking at him, suckling as Phil came down, and releasing him before it became too much. He nuzzled the brown curls at the base, breathing in the scent of sex and catching his breath.

Phil did his best to blink past the dots still floating in front of his eyes, as he slowly came down and began to catch his breath again. The hand that had been sitting on Clint's neck slowly released the hold he didn't realize he'd put on him, and started stroking gently through his hair and down his neck. "C-Clint... that was... th-that...."

Clint groaned low, nuzzled the skin of his flat stomach, eyes closed as he was basically pet. "Yeah?"

"C'mere..." his voice soft and thick as he gently tugged at Clint's shoulder, pulling him up onto the couch with him, arms wrapping around him.

Clint slid up to lay atop the shorter man, nosing at his throat, his own hard cock pressing against Phil's hipbone through his jeans.

Holding him close for a moment, Phil nuzzled at the side of his head before sitting up to pull his own shirt off and drop it to the floor. "Take your jeans off," he murmured, dotting kisses across Clint's temple and ear.

Clint hummed, _soaking_ up the attention. He was quick about getting the rest of his clothing off, and sighed when he pressed against Phil again, skin to skin.

Phil's arms wrapped around him securely, holding him close, and stroking over every inch of skin he could get to. Until finally linking a leg around Clint's and rolling them so Clint was on bottom. Kissing down his neck, Phil sighed softly as he started to rock and press against Clint's hard cock.

Clint gasped, hands roaming all over Phil's skin as they rocked together. He was close, so it wouldn't take long. He couldn't get enough of him.

Phil kissed across Clint's neck and shoulders before making his way back to his lips, kissing him deeply as he rocked and moved against Clint. "Gorgeous... you're so... gorgeous, Clint."

Thing was, the way Phil said it? He could _believe_ it. "Close," he warned him, grasping at his back, and pushing hard into Phil's stomach.

Lips pressed to Clint's shoulder, Phil rocked a little harder, a little faster, panting warm breath against his skin. "Come... when you need to... c’mon."

It wasn't much longer, a dozen thrusts or so, rocking up through the vee of Phil's apollo's belt when he came hard between them, clutching Phil, without a sound.

Phil's arms slipped around Clint and held him tight as he came. He kissed his neck and up to his ear, nuzzling in and murmuring endearments and praise to him, gently coaxing him along on the ride down.

Clint gasped, slowly letting go of his clutch hold. "Stay."

Smiling softly, Phil nuzzled his neck gently, dropping a kiss to it again. "Not going anywhere. Promise."

Clint looked at him, surprised and pleased. "In my dreams, you never stay."

"In mine, you never even ask..." Phil's half smile was weak at best as he rolled to the side, putting himself between the couch and Clint.

Clint tangled up with him. "I always ask. You always tell me to go back to sleep," he said softly.

Huffing softly, Phil shook his head, pressing his lips to Clint's forehead for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Clint."

"Don't be. You're not responsible for dream you."

"Heh, no. I meant...." He trailed off, pulling back a bit so he could look Clint in the eyes, his hand resting gently on Clint's cheek. "I'm sorry about the things that happened while we both thought we were doing an op." The tips of his ears burned red as he looked away in embarrassment. "If it'd been a real one, I would have totally screwed it up royally... right from the beginning."

"Phil. If it was a real op, I'd have tried harder not to futz everything up," He admitted."

"Wait. Did you...did you know it was fake the entire time?"

"Figured it out when they were saying the feed wasn't going through. Wasn't nothin' wrong with the equipment, and the lines were clear."

He paused.

"I thought it was real when I was asking those questions. That's why I was asking them, to figure out how to get through it more smooth." A small laugh shook his shoulders. "I'd never let myself sleep deep on an op, Phil. I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb."

"You’re not dumb at all, and you slept deep on the Athens mission," Phil pointed out, a smirk forming. He remembered that mission a little too well sometimes. "So I was the only one who didn't know until it was basically too late."

"Had you, and Tasha, and Blake, and Sitwell, I could afford to sleep." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Nick's an ass.” Clint grinned.

"Yeah, he really, really is." Phil shook his head, putting it back down so he could go back to lazily kissing Clint's shoulder. "Wish I hadn't freaked out at the start. We could have really had fun messing with people if we'd done things properly."

"Would you really fuck me in your office?"

The tips of his ears burned red again as he pressed his face down into the couch cushion. "Who says you were the one getting fucked in my office?" He paused for a moment. "But... maybe. I'm not so sure I'd really go through with that."

Clint's eyes darkened at the thought of fucking PHIL. EVER. "I just assumed-"

"We both know what happens when we assume, right?"

Clint shifted them so he almost lay atop Phil. "Y'know when I told them I bottom? I didn't tell them about how I'd top, too." He half growled into Phil's ear. "I'd work you open so slow and careful you'd be begging before too long. And when I slide into you, it'd be one long stroke, slow and inescapable."

Phil groaned, his eyes falling shut as he gripped Clint's arms, working his thumb into the muscles of his biceps. "I'm definitely glad you didn't tell them that... it probably would have ended even more awkwardly for me if you had."

Clint smiled wickedly. "So. You're into the idea."

Nodding, he swallowed hard and lifted his head enough to nip at Clint's ear. "Very much so. It sounds like something to look forward to."

Clint's breath caught. "How are you real."

"I've been asking myself the same thing about you for years." It was sappy, but true. Phil pulled Clint back down, capturing his lips in another slow, steady kiss.

Clint let himself be lost in it for a while, before pulling back. "Be right back," he promised, getting off Phil and getting some paper towel wet in the kitchen. He wiped down his dick and stomach, then brought another one over to clean his come off Phil.

Watching Clint move, Phil found himself smiling softly, still intrigued by the man and completely, hopelessly, in love with him. Once he was cleaned, he caught Clint's hand, raising a brow at the ring that was still on his finger. "And you're the one who made a fuss about having to wear one."

"I'm _supposed_ to bust your chops about weird missions," Clint said with a shrug as he gently wiped Phil down.

"This definitely was a weird one, wasn't it?"

"Yeaaaah, I'm surprised we didn't catch on sooner." He tossed the used wet paper towel into a waste bin and climbed right back onto Phil like he belonged there.

Phil's arms wrapped around Clint's waist, holding him close, one leg wrapping around him to keep him in place. "To be honest, I was a little too preoccupied to notice that something wasn't right."

Clint hummed, back to nosing at Phil's throat.

Running his fingers up and down Clint's spine, Phil hummed back softly. "Are you planning to keep wearing it?"

"Yeah." Clint said, and he had. His heart was taken, one way or another, may as well keep people from trying to steal it.

Humming thoughtfully, Phil gave a small nod and kissed the crook of Clint's neck. "We should go up to your bed before we fall asleep down here."

"C'mon," Clint stood, unashamed of his nakedness, or the clothes scattered on the floor. He pulled Phil to his feet and led him up to the loft where his bed was.

Phil followed willingly, and not at all minding the view as they moved up the stairs to the loft. If there was a goofy little smirk on his face when they reached the bed, no one but he and Clint had to know about it. "So... you and Natasha really aren't a thing anymore, then?"

"Not for a long while. Occasionally one or the other of us offer. Like I said, comfort. But neither of us ever takes up on it. Sometimes we wash each other's hair when one of us is upset -- and, God, I sound like a girl or something." He pulled down the covers and got into the bed, laying down and beckoning for Phil to follow.

Chuckling, Phil climbed into bed, settling himself down next to Clint and snuggling in close. "You kind of do, but it's okay. Something tells me everyone thought you were the one wearing the pants of our relationship... so to speak."

"Nah, I'm just the more outgoing one," he teased.

"Well, you are that." Smirking, Phil wrapped himself around Clint a bit more, sighing contently as their bodies slotted together so well.

"I'm really glad you're not Ace," he mumbled, exhaustion from working himself into the ground the past several days, and especially the last two, taking hold. “I’da learned t’ make it work, tho... f’r you....”

Phil huffed a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he let his eyes close. "Mm... I'm far from it. Get some sleep, Clint. I promise I'll still be here when you wake up."

Clint's breathing evened out before he could reply.

****FIVE MONTHS LATER****

Phil stared down at the ring in his hand. Five months together with Clint, four and a half of those months living together in Clint's apartment (Phil had to admit, he actually liked Clint's place better than his own). And now, he was going to make things even more permanent. He hoped.

"Pizza!" Clint announced, carrying a stack of four pies with him. He had a bandage over his - yet again - busted nose, and a grin on his face.

Glancing over the railing, Phil grinned, shaking his head fondly. "I'll be right down." He turned, slipping the ring into his pocket, before taking a deep breath and starting down the stairs. "Please tell me at least one of those is for me, and not just for you and Lucky?"

"Well damn, I guess I'll have to go get another," Clint pretended to go leave then bent around and stole a kiss when Phil was close enough, though it was more grinning against his mouth.

Chuckling, Phil wrapped his arm around Clint's waist, pulling him in close to nip at his lips, careful not to bump his nose and risk hurting it more than it already was. "You're a goofball," he murmured, pulling back and letting go, moving to grab a box that was marked with his favorite toppings. "Grab some drinks and let's eat."

"Beer?" He asked, putting the other pizzas on the island and heading for the fridge.

"Mmm... I suppose, unless you drank my last Dr. Fizzle on me." He smirked, making himself comfortable on the couch and giving Lucky a firm stare as he shifted the pizza box out of the dog’s reach.

Clint snorted and returned with a Labatt and a Dr. Fizzle, which he handed over to Phil while balancing the rest of the pizzas in his other hand. He set them on the beat up coffee table and opened the top box, putting it on the floor. "Chow time for puppy town," he said.

Watching Lucky dig in was pretty much the funniest thing in the world, and Phil really loved the fact their pizza place made one special just for Lucky each time they ordered with only the slightest amount of cheese. That much cheese just wasn't healthy for anyone, let alone a dog. "Alright. What movie, tonight?"

Clint hummed around a slice piled with ham, pepperoni, bacon, and pineapple. "How 'bout Milo and Otis?" he asked, grinning over at him.

"That sounds good to me." He smirked, making himself quite comfortable on the couch so it was clear he wasn't going to be the one getting up to put the movie on. "Should be on the shelf over there."

Clint snorted and got up. "Y'know, one of the awesome things about you is you don't make fun when I want to watch a kid movie - you join in." The smile he gave Phil was fond and all sorts of warm fuzzy happy. It was nice to be able to do that without judgement.

Smiling, Phil shrugged one shoulder and took a sip of his soda. "That's because you happen to have fairly decent taste in kids movies. Now c'mon, hurry up before Lucky starts in on your pizzas."

Clint put it on and sat down, budging up against Phil as he devoured his first pizza, entirely enjoying himself in the here and now, aches and all. Phil was here. Phil was STILL here. Phil, Lucky, Pizza, and feel good film. Tonight was what perfection was made from.

As the movie drew to an end, and the three of them all on the brink of a food coma, Phil nuzzled against Clint's ear, kissing at the soft spot just below it. "Come to bed..." he murmured, the ring still burning a hole in his pocket. He'd chickened out asking earlier, but maybe using sleepiness as a buffer, he could slip the ring onto Clint's finger and pose the question then.

Clint hummed his agreement and shifted, yawning hugely and when he stood stretching so hard his body was a drawn bow itself.

He took a minute to appreciate Clint's form before taking his hand and coaxing him up the stairs to their bed, stripping them both down along the way. The ring was moved from his jeans to his sweatpants pocket before climbing into bed and pulling Clint down against him. "Love you."

"I love you, too," Clint said, nosing his cheek gently, before kissing him soft, and chaste.

Sighing into the kiss, Phil dragged a hand down Clint's body slowly, pulling away just long enough to slip the ring from his pocket. This was it, now or never. Keeping him close, Phil's hand slid back up to take Clint's gently, gently slipping the ring onto his finger. "Marry me...?" He murmured softly, lips never leaving lips.

Clint thumbed his finger, felt the second ring Phil had slipped on there, and he pulled him close; kissing him again hard, and desperate... and _happy_. Desperately happy!

Laughing against Clint's mouth, Phil held him close and kissed back just as happily.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs in no particular order: [New York State of Mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_eO37Hft3B8), [American Pie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n48sngTSWlY), [Love Didn't Do Right By Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKA0jcN8Mew), [In Your Shadow I Can Shine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjWQZDZGDEQ), [Let it Whip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2qo0VuYmZs) \-- if I missed one, let me know! I forgot to keep track!
> 
> Sidenote: Roguebowtie has never seen Milo and Otis - but has been told it's a great kids movie. Woe!


End file.
